


Eight times Sansa Stark didn't write and one time she did

by cresscaptain



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost the dog, Jon the hottie, Sansa can't concentrate, Sansa the writer, Who could?, Writer's Block, Writer's Block because of hot guy, guilty pleasure of mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresscaptain/pseuds/cresscaptain
Summary: AKA the story where the weird author crushes on a non-fictional character who distracts her from writing.





	1. Coffee Shop

The coffee shop was quite big and, at this time, also quite full. Sansa had just recently discovered it and really liked it when it was crowded. The last coffee place she had been going to had always been nearly empty, which meant that the staff stared at her while she typed away on her computer and she really didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself. Here everyone was typing and she enjoyed the rhythm of all of it. The coffee was good, too, but she mostly just wanted to get out of her apartment and to a place where her computer wasn’t hooked up to the WiFi connection. It was generally very distracting. 

But today another thing was distracting her and she hadn’t put a single word on the page in the total time she had been here.

She had come in about ten minutes ago, rushing in because of the rain, had ordered a coffee and had filled it up with her regular milk and sugar. Then she had powered up her computer and opened her new manuscript.

Just then, a man had walked in. He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt and he was soaked. It wasn’t just that, his dark shirt clung to his chest and gave a very clear idea of the definition. Her mouth had watered from the washboard-like structure the wet shirt had.

He was currently waiting for his order, shaking the water out of his curls and pulling them back. His forearms were clearly toned and it was also clearly the reason why he didn’t have coffee yet. The barista looked like she had forgotten what coffee was.

Finally, she handed over the cup and he smiled at her. The barista noticeably gulped.

Sansa was sure that if the barista was currently in her position, she wouldn’t have put a single word on the page either.

The man looked around the place. Because of the sudden change of climate, a lot of people had decided to drink a cup of coffee, so the tables were all full. He frowned.

Sansa saw a woman to her left taking her bag of her additional chair, apparently trying to draw the man’s attention.

But he already saw Sansa’s table and smiled while walking over to it. He looked like a movie star. Even the rain was perfect. This would have been the moment to have a hot kiss with the lead actress.

Sansa couldn’t help but be jealous of the scenario she had just made up. What was the lead actress doing, kissing a man like that?

She quickly stared down at her computer. Now really wasn’t the time to make soulful eyes at him.

But he was in front of her already, smiling again. He had a slightly poetic look, with soulful dark eyes, pale skin and his sharp edges, but when he smiled, his face lit up. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, and his voice was dark and husky with a slight accent she couldn’t place. It all just reminded her uncomfortably of her bed and what may be done there.

She stared at him for a second, then nodded like one of the moving figurines on display. “Yes, I mean, no. You can sit there.”

He smiled again, took a seat and took a sip from his coffee cup. She half expected him to start chugging it to get away from her as soon as possible.

She turned back to her open manuscript. She had been excited to write this scene. It was full of excitement and adventure. Now she couldn’t even remember her main character’s name. 

She swallowed, staring back at the computer after catching herself when staring at the man just across from her. He made her love interest, who, in her humble opinion, was a total heartthrob, look like a limp noodle. Maybe she should rewrite his whole character.

No! she thought. She didn’t know this man, and now he was making her regret her life choices. It was maddening. She glanced up at him again. He had taken out a book and opened it, marking his place with his fingers. As if noticing her stare, he looked up at her and she quickly ducked behind her computer, typing a bunch of nonsense into it just for the hell of it.

He smiled at her again as she cautiously peeked over her computer again. She looked away.

She watched his throat move as he took another sip, feeling creepy as she did so but she just couldn’t look away. 

This wasn’t working, she decided as she typed more nonsense into her computer and regretted her characters. She had to leave.

And as quickly as she had come, she packed her stuff back up after deleting the bunch of nonsense and braved the rain. 

Afterward, she could have slapped herself. There had been a hot young man within her grasp (well, at her table) and she hadn’t talked to him?

At least now she was getting some writing done. Maybe she would meet her deadline after all, but no hot men for Sansa. It wasn’t like she would ever see him again.

Or so she thought.


	2. Eviction Notice

Sansa stared hard at the notice that she had placed on the table near her computer. EVICTION NOTICE was printed in bold letters across the yellow paper. She had thought that it was some sick joke. She always paid her rent and never caused any trouble. But apparently, the owner of the apartment block she lived in had sold and the current owner had different plans for the building. Everyone was being evicted.

Where on earth was she going to find an apartment in two weeks? Was she going to have to move back in with her parents, because she really, really did not want to do that.

They would probably manage to marry her off in the couple of weeks that she spent looking for an apartment.

Her sister Arya was overseas with her boyfriend at some fencing event. She would’ve probably not taken in her sister anyway, after all, it had been a while since Arya had had a steady place. Both her younger brothers still lived at home. Robb was married.

She couldn’t ask anyone else out of her family. Her parents would think it was a form of punishing them as if they ‘hadn’t been punished enough with the fact that their oldest perfect daughter dropped out of college, broke up with her perfect boyfriend and now worked at a bookstore with a crazy writing hobby and delusional dreams’. Yes, she really could do without a guilt trip from her parents.

Brienne was busy with her Lannister and living with her would put Sansa at risk. She did not want to accidentally meet Joffrey.

Jeyne, her editor, was across the country for her new fancy job. That was, depressingly, everyone she could really consider asking.

This was depressing.

Making a quick decision, she called Robb. His wife Jeyne and she were friends. Maybe she knew someone.

The phone rang four times before Robb picked up.

“Hey,” he drawled into the phone. “This better be important. The game is on.”

“I’m getting evicted.”

“Proceed.”

“Jerk-face. Anyway, I was hoping that Jeyne – or you – maybe knew someone who was looking for a roommate. Quickly.” She added the ‘or you’ in as a second thought. She was desperate.

There was a loud cheer in the background. Robb was making loud noises and his attention was diverted for a couple of minutes, probably toward their massive flatscreen. Of course, even in her time of need, sports would always be the first thing on Robb’s mind.

“Sorry, Sansa. Jeyne…needed my help with something. What were you saying?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do. You. Know. Anyone. With. An. Apartment. Looking. For. A. Roommate.”

“Oh, right. You need an apartment. Or possibly a sugar daddy.”

Sansa waited as Robb laughed at his own joke.

“I got nothing right now, Sans, but I’ll check with Jeyne and get back to you. Maybe she knows someone or she knows someone who knows someone.”

“Thanks, Robb,” she said, and hung up, staring at the phone for a while after she’d hung up. Huh. She’d actually asked her brother for help. Never would she live this down. He’d probably already made a facebook group. Or a website. LaughAboutSansasApartmentStruggles.com

Maybe she should check if there was actually such a website.

She put her head in her hands. The Deadline was looming overhead, and she really didn’t feel like writing, but as it turned out, she didn’t have to. Work started in half an hour and she didn’t want to be late.

A buzzing interrupted her quiet contemplation whilst on public transport. Sansa had forgotten her headphones, again, so now the only option she had for entertainment was staring out of the window and attempting to picture her love interest. She was still reeling from the effects of the man in the coffee shop. It had been a couple of days and still she couldn’t think of golden hair. The hair was dark and curly, the skin pale. Stubble instead of smooth skin. She shook her head. It was one guy and all her plotting and character description had gone tumbling out the window. It just wasn’t fair.

She grabbed her phone out of her bag and unlocked it. Robb had sent her a message.

Found someone.

Sitting up straighter in her seat, she dialed his number quickly. If this was him and his friends playing a prank to have something to post on LaughAboutSansasApartmentStruggles.com, she would throttle him.

“Sansa! Got my text, did you?” Robb’s voice had lost the distractedness from before and even sounded cheerful. Apparently, ‘they’ had won. (Robb still insisted he would have made the team if it weren’t for that unfortunate accident that Sansa had apparently forgotten.)

“Yes. Did Jeyne ask one of her friends?” There was a pause on the other side and Sansa began to feel uneasy. “Did she?”

“…Not exactly.”

Oh no.

As if feeling her desperation (because apparently he had pranked her and now she was feeling desperate because it wasn’t possible to strangle someone through a phone) he added quickly: “One of my mates is looking for a roommate though. Jeyne found no one and…well, you seemed desperate.”

“One of your mates?”

He exhaled. “God, Sansa, you make us sound like cavemen. He’s great. Owns a house and all. His roommate moved out ‘cause he got married, and the house has room for two people. I’m sure the rent doesn’t hurt, either.”

She paused, chewing her lip. Moving in with a guy? She had never lived with one, except her brothers, but as her brother had pointed out, she was desperate.

“What does he do?” she asked cautiously.

“He’s a professor at King’s Landing University.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. That did sound respectable.

“He volunteers in his free time.”

She was starting to like the idea of him.

“The rent with him is low. He doesn’t need the money and he owns the place.”

It was music to her ears.

“And, Sans – he owns a dog.”

Okay, that was it – she would take it. She loved dogs, and how bad could a guy be if he owned a dog?

“Can you tell him yes from me?”

“Don’t you want to see the place first?”

Right. That was normal when you moved. You looked at the place beforehand.

“I will, but tell him yes anyway. I don’t think anything else will come up. Also, it’s probably just temporary, so…yes, go ahead and tell him yes.” Oh, the struggles of living in a crowded city. One could never get a place quickly without paying horrendous amounts of money. It took time to get a place, but this was her chance.

“Great. See you later. Maybe we could arrange a meeting before you move in.”

Sansa nodded along. Probably better, before she accidentally moved in with a serial killer or something.

“Tomorrow night sound good? He’ll be over.”

“Sounds great.” She exhaled. “Thank you, Robb. I appreciate it.”

She heard him laugh. “Remember, after I was done with University? I had to move back home. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Laughing, she hung up, feeling infinitely better than when beforehand.

A couple of minutes later, her phone buzzed again, this time with contact information: a phone number, an address, and a name.

Jon Snow

A sentence below the information told her Robb had given this Jon the same information. He had said yes to her moving in.

She smiled at her phone until it was time to get off the bus.

Floating into the bookshop, she said hi to her co-workers. She was a couple of minutes early, so she went into the breakroom, quickly pulled her labeled shirt on and then looked Jon Snow up on Facebook. 

All she learned was that Snows existed like sand at a beach and Jon wasn’t an uncommon name either.

Instead, she pulled up Robb Stark and checked his friend list.

There. Jon Snow.

The photo above his name looked – oh no.

Oh, no.


	3. Robb's Apartment

She’d changed five times, pulled her hair up in six different styles and started texting her brother (or the elusive number in her phone that was her new roommate) that it wouldn’t work out eight times. But in the end, there was no use. She’d been about to throw this whole idea away as soon as she’d seen that Facebook photo and she would’ve, but her shift had been about to start and so she’d had no time to actually get to it. And by the end of her workday, Robb had texted her a figure with the explanation Rent. A very, very low figure.

The thought of not having to eat ramen until payday was very tempting. (Sorry ramen.)

So now she was about to go off and meet her soon-to-be-roommate, also known as the incredibly hot, incredibly wet guy from the coffee shop she’d visited earlier this week.

As soon as that thought crossed through her head, she immediately reached for her phone once more. One small text and she wouldn’t have to do this.

But alas, she was lying to herself. Yes. She would have to do this.

Jon-hot-guy was waiting. She’d just have to go with what she’d just changed into, which were skinny jeans and a blue striped top. In an effort to get the perfect makeup, she had ended up with almost no makeup, but she was out of time.

Quickly, she slipped into some flats, put some perfume on and grabbed the computer bag that she used as a purse. A quick glance at the clock told her that she had to go because the next bus would come in about five minutes.

While walking out of her apartment, she made the terrible mistake of glancing into the mirror. Immediately, she wanted to go back and change again, or at least cover her under-eye circles or something.

She cursed this way of thinking, but oh, it had been so long since she’d had a boyfriend and now she was about to go meet a fine specimen of a man who she had agreed to live with.

Making a decision, she forced herself out the door and to the bus station as the bus was just pulling in. She pulled her makeshift purse closer as she showed the bus driver her card.

Settling into her seat, she attempted to think about her characters. Robb lived twenty minutes away from her: she could maybe even jot down some notes she could ask her editor about.

But the ideas wouldn’t come. There was nothing to write unless her story had suddenly turned into a handsome curly-haired man who is deeply attracted to an awkward author he saw once at a café. 

Finally giving up, she leaned back and just surveyed the crowded streets, thinking again about how easy it would be to just get off at a different station and never meet this Jon.

You need this, she told herself. You need a place to stay and right now this is your only option.

Finally, after what felt like both a lifetime and only two seconds, the bus pulled up at the bus station next to Robb and Jeyne’s apartment. She sighed and got off, offering a weak smile as a passenger stepped aside from the door to let her pass.

She rang the doorbell and was immediately buzzed up. As they lived on the first floor, she ignored the lift and jogged up the stairs instead.

Jeyne opened the door, and while Sansa was still a little shaken by her internal battle, she was always happy to see her sister-in-law.

“Hello,” Jeyne said, smiling and taking Sansa’s jacket before pulling her into a hug. “So sorry to hear about your struggles, but it’s good to see you again! We should go out sometime again.”

“Absolutely,” Sansa agreed, nervously looking around. “Where is…”

“Robb and Jon are in the living room. Do you want something to drink? We have tea, or water, the boys are drinking beer…”

“Water would be lovely, thank you.” If she remembered anything about Jon correctly, she would need it to cool down. Or pour all over him.

While Jeyne busied herself in the kitchen, Sansa took a few tentative steps in the direction of the living room. She heard the sound of talking.

Come on, you coward, she told herself and pushed the door open.

Inside she first saw her brother, languidly sprawled out on the couch with a beer in his hand, laughing at something. His red hair was tousled and he had had grand ideas of a mustache again. Sansa immediately made a mental note to try and make Jeyne talk him into shaving it off.

Opposite of him sat – well, Jon.

The guy who looked even more attractive than when she had met him at the coffee shop.

Shoot.

This time, he was wearing a soft dark jumper with his dark jeans. His hair was sticking up in curls that just worked for him in a way that it would never for most men. His stubble looked effortlessly perfect, especially in comparison to the audacity that was Robb’s beard. And – oh, shoot, shoot, shoot – he was wearing black glasses that made him not only look like the professor he apparently was but also even more ridiculously hot. It also made her want to jump him.

Robb noticed her presence first. “Sansa!” he exclaimed, making a motion as if he were about to get up, but gave up in the middle to settle back down. “Sansa, this is Jon Snow. Jon, this is my sister, Sansa.”

Jon, as a contrast to Robb, did get up and held out his hand to her, giving her the crooked smile that had melted the cashier at the coffee shop. Sansa took a deep breath, then took it, giving him what she hoped was a smile instead of a grimace.

But his hand was so warm and firm and…

“Hello,” he said, still smiling that beautiful and warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she said and then, struggling with what else to say, “thanks for keeping the rent so low.”

She wanted to kick herself.

Jon laughed as if she had meant to make it a joke instead of actually meaning it. Then he frowned ever so slightly. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

Sansa shook her head and was about to tell him that he had probably seen her on one of Robb’s pictures around the apartment – that had been absolutely Jeyne’s doing before her parents visited this place – when he smiled and said, “Oh, I shared your table at the coffee shop that one time.”

“Did you?” she squeaked out.

“Yes. Shame you had to leave so fast. I didn’t mean to make you go, even though I was all wet.” He laughed softly, but Sansa’s mind immediately conjured up a picture of his body with the wet fabric clinging to it.

Keep it together, she told herself.

“Well, about the apartment. Sorry, I’m actually in a bit of a hurry,” she said as Jeyne joined them and handed her a glass of water.

“Really?” Robb asked, frowning. “Then Jon and you won’t have a chance to get to know each other!”

“Yes, right, sorry Jon. I just, I have a call with my agent.”

Robb opened his mouth to say more, but Jon interjected, “That’s fine. We’ll be living with each other pretty soon anyway and I’m sure we’ll get to know each other better as well. Assuming you want to live with me,” he added quickly as if he was unsure.

“Are you kidding? I’m in a bit of a pinch here and you don’t seem like a serial killer, so I’ll take it.” She winced at her own words, quickly taking a gulp of water.

“Well, thank you,” Jon answered. “You don’t seem half-bad either.”

From the twinkle in his eye, Sansa knew he was joking.

“When are you going to move in?” he asked.

“As soon as possible,” she answered, then added, “but whenever is convenient for you.”

“I’ll text you, alright? Would you like to tour the house sometime soon?”

“No, if you don’t mind, I’d rather hurry up and move in.”

He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Fine by me.”

Sansa could feel herself blushing, so she quickly turned her face into the water glass again. “Yes, sorry, need to go,” she mumbled, placing the glass on the living room table and apologizing to Jeyne for doing it in the same breath. “My agent – sorry, it was really last minute…”

“Absolutely,” Jon said, holding his hand out to her again. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You have no idea, she thought. But aloud all she said was, “Mmm-mmm.”

Great, she thought as she left the apartment building, you lasted about five minutes before making up a fake call with your agent. Very mature.

How was she going to live with him if being in his presence made her react like that?

One thing was clear: there was no way she was going to be able to write today.


	4. New Apartment

Author’s Note: Sorry, this is a short one, but I can barely keep my eyes open. This will have to do.  
I hope it’s not terrible, but it’s hard to tell with one’s eyes closed :)  
Please review.

 

Jon was carrying a box right behind her when she first stepped into her new room.

They had worked out the details over texting only several days after the awkward encounter at Robb’s place and Sansa had begun to pack up all her stuff into boxes, getting rid of all the junk that she owned.

It was actually a little depressing how much junk she owned.

But ever since then, Robb had driven by in his car to pick up the boxes she gave him and he brought them to Jon’s place and stacked them in her new room. She had yet to see it: she had tried every precaution in the last couple of days to not have to face Jon Snow again anytime soon.

But now the load had finally come to an end: Jon and she were just carrying in the last boxes of her many, many belongings and then she would have to ‘just’ put them away.

Sam, Jon’s previous roommate, had left old furniture he didn’t need in the room. He had told her via Jon that she was welcome to use it: he shared his things with his wife now and they had their own furniture.

She hadn’t needed everything, but she had agreed that it was better to put her own crappy bed and wardrobe into storage for the time being. Sam’s were better for now and it had the great advantage of not having to move her own furniture to Jon’s place.

Sansa was just taking this place temporarily, after all.

The room was pretty, as was the house. It was a two-story older house that felt cozy and nice. It had two bedrooms on the upper floor and a bathroom that Jon and Sansa would share. The downer floor had a large living room, an open kitchen, and a small bathroom. All in all, there was a lot of windows and a lot of open space, but Sansa liked it.

The whole place was painted in light colors close to white, which gave the impression of a wide and airy space. She liked it a lot.

Another permanent fixture of the house that she’d liked on sight was the huge white dog that had risen from a doggy bed beside the couch in the living room, wagging his tail and sniffing at Sansa. Because of her family’s love for all things dog, she had taken to him immediately and she had the feeling the sentiment was mutual, which made her very happy.

Jon had introduced him as Ghost which, with his white fur and piercing red eyes, didn’t seem like too much of a stretch. 

Still, Jon had said, he was just a huge teddy bear.

Sansa was excited to share her life with a dog again, even if it was just her roommate’s dog.

It still hadn’t quite sunken in that she was now living with the hot guy that, by some twist of fate, had chosen to sit at her table in that coffee shop as she had panted over him. 

There were probably several more occasions of absolute awkwardness to come and she was not looking forward to it. Still, she felt relieved that the ever-present thought of having to move out soon wasn’t an issue anymore.

Jon was now helping her built up her bookshelf again from scratch. She had puzzled out how to do this once before with Robb by her side, but she had already forgotten everything about how to put it together, so she would probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

Sansa, for her part, was trying to put away clothes and trying simultaneously not to drool every time one of Jon’s muscles contracted as he moved parts this way and that, trying to find out how the builder of the shelf had intended it to look like.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said, surprising herself. Immediately she wanted to shove the words back into her mouth for how they destroyed the semi-comfortable silence they had had between them.

Jon turned from where he was puzzling over a corner. “No problem.” He even gave her his beautiful smile.

“No seriously,” she insisted. “You came into my apartment almost all day today helping me move and now you’re helping me again, here.”

“Well,” Jon said, putting another piece against the bookshelf corner before sighing and dismissing it, “you’re also doing me a favor, moving in with me here. I was actually quite lonely, just Ghost and me.”

Sansa could feel the heat in her cheeks. Lonely? At night, in your bed? I could keep you company…

“Oh, well,” she said stupidly, to stop herself from saying all the other things going through her head. “Thanks,” she added before hastily saying, “again”. Why was she such an idiot?

She blushed, if possible, even further.

“And if you hadn’t lost the instructions for the bookcase,” he continued, “I would like you even more.”

Sansa immediately started apologizing furiously for all the errors she had ever committed in her life, her face taking on an equally furious shade of red.

 

Life started settling into an easy rhythm. Jon would go to University during the day while Sansa put in her hours at the bookstore. They would generally come home at different times during the day and Jon would correct papers or send emails to his students or go to the gym for a while to work out. He jogged with Ghost twice a day as well: dawn and dusk.

Sansa offered to go for him, but he never took her offer.

When she came home from her shifts, she would open her computer and stare at it for a couple of hours, pretending that she was brainstorming ideas rather than admitting to herself which she personally knew to herself was true: Jon had stolen all her words.

When he came out of the shower in nothing but a towel. When he pulled off his shirt after his run. When he was cooking or when he was correcting and wearing his sexy muscles or when he was taking a nap on the couch and the muscles were visible through his sleep shirts. 

He was just so incredibly sexy. Sansa could barely take it. Her main love interest was a noodle in comparison, her protagonist seemed stupid (because why would she fall in love with such a noodle) and then she felt like an idiot for wanting to change the whole story for a guy she lived with.

A guy she didn’t even really talk to.

Because of their ever-changing schedules, there weren’t a lot of times when they were in the house together and therefore they barely had any conversations.

The only thing Sansa would see as progress in their roommate friendship was the night in front of the TV.

That night, they were both home and both downstairs. Generally, Sansa liked to write in her room but that day she just wanted a change of scenery. Jon was already in front of the TV, watching some stupid show that he turned off as soon as she sat down next to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously, then added, “Your brother told me you were a writer, but what specifically are you writing?”

“A manuscript for a new book,” she said proudly.

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, are you published?”

“Kind of,” she explained. Seeing his baffled expression, she settled down in front of him and put her laptop on the coffee table. “I sold my book via my agent to a publishing house, so my draft is on its way to becoming a proper book, but it’s not technically in book form yet. They did give me a two-book deal, so that’s what I’m writing now. My second book.”

“Wow,” he repeated, and she flushed red, wondering if it was too late to flee the room, especially with the way he was looking at her. A strange intensity: it made her feel seen.

A look that any easy blusher could see just by touching her own face.

“Yes, well,” she fumbled. “I actually have got to get some work done now.” And just as quickly as she had come, she left again, rushing out with a red face and her laptop, her mind screaming ‘Coward’ at the top of its lungs.

No wonder she was getting no writing done.

**Author's Note:**

> For writers, feedback is incredibly important. Without which, writing becomes a harder task to master.  
> Or: if you don't review, I'll take my long-ass time uploading.  
> I don't own anything.


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